


never enough

by katieelle



Series: BMC Smut Series [9]
Category: Be More Chill - Iconis/Tracz
Genre: Alternate Universe, BDSM, Bondage, CEO Jeremy, Choking, Collars, Crying, Daddy Kink, Knifeplay, M/M, Out of Character, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Verbal Humiliation, Vibrators, its pretty intense, surprise i added plot, this is...a lot
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-26
Updated: 2018-10-21
Packaged: 2019-06-16 09:08:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 17,650
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15433689
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/katieelle/pseuds/katieelle
Summary: Jeremy copes with his overwhelming stress by hooking up with strangers he meets at a BDSM club. He never lets himself see the same person twice, which was never a problem until he met Michael. But rules are rules, and he needs them to keep his life on track.He doesn't need himself getting distracted by something stupid like love.(I wrote this a while ago and recently I finally decided to add on to it. I know the first chapter is fucking weird, but I swear the story is actually going to get better and less smut-ty. So if you're interested in this but not all of the tags, you can skip the first chapter and I'll give a little summary of what happened in the beginning of the 2nd.)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [DrunkenWhalers](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DrunkenWhalers/gifts).



> hi !! so this is pretty intense, please read the tags !! michael checks in with jeremy multiple times though and jeremy is very into everything :) 
> 
> im doing a second part to this, which is going to be a lot less intense, so if this isnt your thing stay tuned for that !

Jeremy is sitting at the bar, finishing off his second beer of the night. Coming here has become routine for him. He’s lonely, he knows he keeps coming here in a pathetic attempt to replace whatever is missing in him, but it never works. Sometimes he’ll leave the club alone and drunk, and other times he’ll leave the club hanging off of a stranger’s arm. It doesn’t matter if he’s with a man or a woman or something in between, he’ll always be seeking the same thrill. And sometimes, afterward, when he stumbles home the next morning before they wake up, he’ll get a text from them. Every time, he ignores them, blocks their number if they get too annoying, and he feels more empty than before. Every time.

But he keeps coming back anyway, holding out hope that he’ll find a person that doesn’t leave him feeling empty.

It’s a Friday night, so the club is particularly busy. There are a few people that catch his eye, but they seem to be busy participating in scenes or are already taken. It’s not like he’s any good at approaching people anyways, he’ll usually wait until someone approaches him. “Back again?” he hears Rich, his favorite bartender ask as he approaches him, slinging a towel over his shoulder. “Girl from last night wasn’t the one?”

“Not even close,” Jeremy says, sliding his empty glass towards Rich. He doesn’t even have to say anything, he comes here so often that Rich already knows what he likes to drink. He pours a glass from the pitcher, filling it up to the brim so Jeremy gets a little extra for his money. “Thanks.”

“That dude over there kinda looks like your type.” Jeremy follows Rich’s gaze and sees a guy that surprisingly does look like his type, with a thin frame and blonde hair. The only problem is that he’s holding a leash that’s attached to a collar that’s wrapping around a girl’s neck.

“He already has a sub,” Jeremy says, maybe a little disappointed. He can’t go home alone tonight. He doesn’t have to be in at work tomorrow so it doesn’t matter how long he’s out.

“They could be open,” Rich shrugs.

“Too complicated.”

Jeremy watches a scene play out where a small crowd has gathered. There’s a man strapped to an X-shaped post while another man takes a flogger to his back. And the whole time, the sub is remaining silent with a straight face as a group of people watches red lines bloom across the skin of his back. Jeremy couldn’t do that. Even if he wanted to, he couldn’t take it that far, especially knowing that his body was exposed to anyone in the club who wanted to look.

The first few times Jeremy came here, he almost got scared out right away seeing people wearing chains and gags and masks. He probably would have run out and never looked back if he hadn’t met Rich, who explained to him he didn’t have to do anything he didn’t want to and that most people there were actually really nice. And he was right, they were nice, and it gave Jeremy a way to meet people who could help him let go for a while. It was never enough, though. Something was still missing.

Someone he’s never seen before walks through the door alone. He’s got thick glasses and a nervous look on his face, dressed in a red sweatshirt and jeans, and in a room full of people that are half-naked, he looks just as out of place as Jeremy. “Haven’t seen him here before,” Rich says, pointing out the same guy that caught Jeremy’s eye. “He’s cute. You should say hi.”

And as cute he is, he doesn’t seem to have the type of attitude that Jeremy needs right now. He’s skittish, flinching at every loud sound, and he appears lost, looking around with his hands in his pockets. Maybe he really is lost, he could’ve somehow stumbled into the wrong building. Jeremy is almost completely sure he’s a sub, or maybe he’s just here to see what it’s like.

  
“You’re gonna miss your shot,” Rich says when a man approaches the cute glasses guy. He’s much older, judging by his greying hair, but not necessarily unattractive. They seem to be getting along pretty well and Jeremy thinks that Rich is right, he’s missing his shot before even getting to know the guy’s name. He’s talking with his hands, too, waving them around awkwardly, and Jeremy smiles.

And then things take a turn for the worse. The older man is reaching out, trying to touch glasses guy’s shoulder, and the younger man is backing up to avoid his touch. The older man says something that Jeremy can’t hear, and the other guy is frantically shaking his head no, trying to get out of the situation, but his protests continue to go ignored. “Are you seeing this?” Jeremy asks Rich, who is also watching with wide eyes. “Should I go do something?”

“Yeah, yeah go, I’ll watch your drink,” Rich encourages.

“I’m scared. What if he tries to fight me or something?” He’s a lot bigger than Jeremy, he could definitely take him down. But the older man is closing in, trying to grab at the other’s waist, and nobody’s doing anything about it and Jeremy can’t let it go on for any longer. “Alright. Here it goes.”

Jeremy leaves his seat at the bar alone, with Rich applauding him as he approaches the scene. “Hey, what’s going on here?” Jeremy asks, trying to sound more confident, but his voice is as shaky as his hands. He shoves them in his pockets so they won’t see.

“I’m just trying to be friendly, but he’s being a dick,” the older one says. Jeremy’s never seen anything happen like this in this club. He’d been to other bars where he saw it happen way too often, but everyone in this club was usually surprisingly respectful, despite the...unusual circumstances.

Jeremy says the first thing that comes to mind. “He’s my boyfriend,” he blurts, his voice still sounding weak. “So...fuck off.”

The younger guy, who Jeremy has just proclaimed is his boyfriend, doesn’t agree, but he doesn’t disagree either. He just looks at him, confused but grateful. “The more the merrier,” says the asshole, who is relentless and persistent, and the more he says the more he pisses Jeremy off. He wants to punch the guy, but he knows that’ll only get him kicked out, and it’s not like he’d do much damage anyway with how scrawny he is.

“I can get you kicked out of here,” Jeremy says, looking back at Rich for reassurance, who gives him a thumbs up from behind the bar. It sounds like an empty threat, but it’s true. He can get anyone kicked out, really, because he can easily have Rich call security. “Get the hell out of here before the police get involved and you have to be escorted out of here wearing...that.” It’s easily one of the ugliest things Jeremy has ever seen, fake black leather that barely covers him with chains attached — the stereotypical kind of thing someone might expect from a place like this.

That idea seems to get it through his head that Jeremy is not fucking around, and he disappears into a back room, presumably to change into clothes that he can walk outside in. “Uh, thanks,” the younger man says, outstretching his hand. “Michael, by the way.”

“Jeremy,” he says, accepting the handshake. Now that he’s closer to him and the old prick is out of the way, Jeremy gets a better look at him. There are dark eyes behind his glasses, darting around the room like he isn’t sure what to expect next. His skin is dark as well, so clear and smooth. “You seem like you’re new to this type of thing,” he adds, judging by the way Michael is trying to watch everything that’s happening all at once.

“Never been to a place like this before,” Michael laughs. Maybe Jeremy won’t get what he needs from him, but he could at least make a new friend out of this. God knows he needs more of those. “It’s intense.”

“It is,” Jeremy agrees with a nod, looking around. He could never do anything weird in public like these people do, but it’s the only place he can come to find people that can give him what he needs. “Do you want a drink?”

“Uh, yeah, sure,” Michael says. Jeremy leads him over to the bar where Rich is waiting patiently and he sits down at his stool from earlier, taking a sip of his beer.

Rich glances back and forth between the two of them, arms resting on the bar. He’s got the biggest smile on his face as he grabs a glass and sets it down in front of Michael. “This is Rich,” Jeremy introduces him. “He’s hot and taken.”

“What can I get you?” Rich asks with a smirk.

“Just a beer,” Michael says. Rich starts filling his glass up and Michael takes a few dollars out of his wallet.

“On the house,” Rich says, shoving his money back to him. “Just since it’s your first time here.”

“That obvious, huh?” he asks with a giggle. Definitely a sub. Maybe Jeremy should just go home, come back another night. It seems like his luck is pretty shitty right now. “I’m just here to...y’know, meet people.”

Jeremy, of course, knows exactly what it means. “Same with me,” Jeremy says.

“Oooh!” Rich hums. “Looks like you have some competition, Jer.”

More like a lot. It can be hard for Jeremy to get people to notice him when he just sits at the bar talking to Rich the whole time. It’s even harder when the place is crawling with people who look like Michael -- young, lively, and not dead inside. “Competition?” Michael repeats. “What do you mean?”

“Do I really need to spell it out?” Rich asks with a groan, gesturing to the club and the types of people that they’re surrounded by. Michael still looks just as lost. “Obviously, you’re both here looking for some dom to come fuck you.”

“Oh, I’m not…” Michael starts to say, blushing a little bit. For a second, Jeremy is sure he’s about to say he’s not just looking for someone to fuck him, which would have been complete bullshit anyway. No one comes here looking for anything more than that. “I’m not a sub. So I guess that means...yeah, I’m a dom, then.”

Rich and Jeremy give each other the same look, thinking the same thing. But Michael is way out of his league, he could have anyone in that room that he wanted. Apparently, Rich has other ideas. “Sounds like you two would be a good match,” Rich says with a chuckle. He’s always trying to set Jeremy up, and usually, he’s grateful because he could never just start a conversation with someone by himself. But then there are times like these where Jeremy just knows he’s going to end up embarrassed. “This is the part where you’re supposed to ask me to leave so you can talk this out...alone.”

Jeremy is going to kill him the first chance he gets. “Then go,” Jeremy says, not because he particularly wants to be alone in an awkward situation with Michael, but because he knows Rich is only going to keep making matters worse. “Sorry about him. He’s kind of a mess.”

“It’s okay,” Michael says. “He’s right, though. I think we’d make a good match.”

Jeremy’s eyes light up as his head turns around to look at him. “Really?” he asks, still surprised. He takes a moment to glance around the room again, seeing that they’re surrounded by so many attractive people. And he’s caught Michael’s eye? Jeremy doesn’t know how, but he really doesn’t want to fuck it up now. He sits up a little straighter and adjusts his tie, trying to make himself appear a little more presentable. “I guess I’m just surprised because you’re really hot,” Jeremy says breathlessly. He’s trying to hide the blush on his cheeks, resting his head in his hands.

“I’ve never been to a place like this before, so I don’t really know what to do next, but I guess I’m supposed to ask…” he says trailing off. “What are you looking for? And what are you like...into? Because I don’t think this is gonna work if you wanna be shit on or something.”

Jeremy chokes on his drink a little. “No, no shitting,” he says quickly. “What I’m looking for is just...someone who can take control for a while, I guess? I’m a CEO, so it can be really stressful and I’m always trying to control everything else in my life. So this has become my way to just…let go for a while.”

He’s afraid he’s shared too much of his personal life, but Michael nods along, listening intently. “That’s actually really interesting,” Michael says. “You know, usually it’s the other way around. Most rich businessmen just want someone pretty to play around with.” Jeremy had met way too many people who were just like that in his past. And all of them were awful in bed. “Sorry, I know it’s weird talking to someone about what you’re into, but I just want to make sure it’s nothing really crazy before I go home with you.”

Oh, fuck, this is happening tonight. Jeremy’s brain short circuits at the thought of this being just an hour or two away. He’s been craving it so desperately recently, and having Michael, one of the hottest guys he’s ever met, give it to him? It’s like a dream. “I’d like being restrained. Either, um, rope, handcuffs, ties, whatever w-works,” he stutters. He’s never talked about it like this out loud before. Usually, he just goes with the first person who approaches him and he hopes for the best. “I’d like to be called names. And I want...I want it to hurt.”

It sounds so much worse when he says it. The things he does, the things he has done, they don’t even seem like him anymore. But when he’s in the right mindset, it all seems to fit together and he realizes that that’s who he is at his core — starved of attention. That’s what this is about. “That’s - I can do that,” Michael says, lips hung open in a gasp. “That sounds really good.

It’s a relief. “Oh, and by the way,” Jeremy starts to say. He never tells them this because he knows most of them would turn away if he said it. He prefers to wait until after they’d have sex to cut them off, but Michael is too sweet. He can’t just ghost him like that without warning. “I won’t see you again after this. I don’t like seeing the same person twice.” Michael looks disappointed, eyes downcast, but he nods. “Nothing against you. You’re one of the nicest people I’ve met here. I just...can't do a relationship right now.”

“It’s cool. I get it,” Michael says. He finishes off his beer and leaves a tip for Rich, even though he said not to give him any money. “Your place or mine?”

“Your’s,” Jeremy says immediately. He tries not to let too many people see where he lives. When they leave, Jeremy doesn’t say bye to Rich. He can’t deal with his teasing any longer.

***

Jeremy is slammed against the door of Michael’s apartment not even seconds after he’s stepped inside. Michael has his hands at the collar of his shirt, a tight grip that leaves him no wiggle room. He isn’t even really kissing Michael back, he can’t move enough to do so. It’s just Michael’s lips and tongue and teeth on his, fighting against him almost angrily. “Shit,” Michael says, taking a step back. Jeremy’s body relaxes and he licks his bottom lip. “I’ve got something I want to try. I need to know if it’s okay first.” Jeremy nods, his mouth is too dry to speak. “Stay there. I’ll go get it.”

Jeremy wonders what it could be. Is it something he’s done before? Probably, he’s tried most things at least once. When Michael returns, he’s holding a small black box. It looks the kind that would hold a ring for an engagement. It can’t be that, though m, so Jeremy stares at it, puzzled, trying to figure out what it could be. “You don’t have to,” Michael says, slowing opening the box. Inside, sitting on a plush white pillow, as if anything else might break its delicate structure, is a collar. It’s pink with white lace trim and a heart charm dangling from the front. It’s pretty. Jeremy has seen people wearing collars a lot, but it’s never really appealed to him. Until now. “No one’s worn it yet. I was saving it for...someone special. And you’re pretty special.”

Jeremy reaches a hand out and runs his fingers over the fabric — soft, tempting. “Special?” he repeats, questioning. He isn’t special, Michael just thinks he is. “I’m not special,” he tells him, his tone serious.

“How many 20 something CEOs who need to be controlled are out there?” Michael asks. Jeremy doesn’t answer, he can’t because he doesn’t know. Maybe it’s just him. “Exactly. You are special. Do you want to wear it?”

He does, but he doesn’t know if he should. He doesn’t know if he deserves it. It looks like the type of thing that should be reserved for an actual princess, with the frilly lace and shiny jewels on the heart. “Yes, please,” he finally says. The room suddenly feels too hot and stiff when Michael steps forward, slowly undoing his tie and letting it slip to the ground. He peels back the collar of his shirt, exposing his pale neck, and he wraps the collar around him, adjusting it in the back.

It’s light on his skin, barely even noticeable, but it’s there and Michael is looking at him like owns the whole world. Jeremy reaches up and touches it, feels the lace tickling his skin and the weight of the heart piece pulling down the front. “Is it too tight?” Michael asks, slipping a finger between the fabric and Jeremy’s neck to test the give.

“No, it’s…” Jeremy says. “It feels really good.” He’s staring at the ground, but Michael places a finger on his chin and tilts up, gentle but demanding, until their eyes meet.

“Oh,” Michael breathes. “That’s pretty. Very pretty.” He hooks his fingers under the collar and pulls him in for another kiss that Jeremy reciprocates eagerly. It’s softer this time, less intense, and Jeremy moves his mouth in sync with Michael’s fluidly. Michael shifts his leg forward, pressing in between Jeremy’s thighs and against the bulge in his pants. Jeremy groans into the kiss, lips open and willing.

“H-How,” Jeremy starts to say, getting cut off by another kiss. “How often do you do this?” he manages to ask in between open-mouthed pecks. He seems so innocent, yet he seems to know exactly what he’s doing at the same time. He contradicts himself in intriguing ways.

“I’m not a slut,” Michael answers matter of factly. “But I’ve done it enough to know how to give you what you want.”

His voice is low and dark and it makes chills appear up and down Jeremy’s arms. That’s the thrill of this — each person is different. He never knows exactly what they might do to him, and Michael is no different. At any time, he could pull out a knife and slit Jeremy’s throat and he wouldn’t even see it coming. That should scare him, but the risk only adds to the experience. Maybe that’s fucked up, but he’s too deep into this to care.

Jeremy’s getting more needy, more bold, testing Michael’s limits. He’s reaching his hands up to wrap around Michael’s neck, using one hand to grip a fistful of Michael’s hair and pull him down closer. “Getting eager?” he teases, but he lets Jeremy think he’s in control for a few more moments, following his lead. “Maybe I need to tie you up. How’s that sound?”

“Oh, fuck,” Jeremy moans. “Yes. Please.” He knows how desperate he sounds; he can hear it in his voice, in his head. It’s pathetic, and that only makes him harder.

“I’m going to make you regret wanting this.”

And that threat alone is enough to make Jeremy want to come right there. He feels Michael’s hands at his neck, grabbing him by the collar and using it to pull him forwards, leading him to the bed down the hall. The fabric tightens at Michael’s grip and he finds himself working a little harder to take in air. “Get these clothes off,” Michael demands, and then he’s forcing Jeremy’s blazer open. He hears one of the buttons pop off and land on the floor, spinning like a coin. “Oh. Shit. Sorry, I didn’t mean that. I can sew it back on, if you like.”

“No, it’s okay,” Jeremy says through a laugh. It was getting too small for him anyway. After the brief interruption, Michael is back to stripping him, pulling his belt from the loops and slinging it to the side, then yanking his pants down so Jeremy can step out of them. He leaves his undershirt and his boxers on, which doesn’t make much sense, but Jeremy isn’t about to question his methods.

“What’s your safeword, baby?” Michael asks, tugging him closer by the hem of his boxers.

“Stoplight system,” he says. He uses the same thing every time. It’s simple, easy to remember, and everyone knows it. “Sir,” he adds on at the end for good measure.

Michael tsks, shaking his head no. “Don’t call me sir,” he says. “Daddy is better.”

He’s done it before. He’s called plenty of guys ‘daddy’ through his escapades. Fuck, he’s even called women daddy. So why does saying it now make his tongue go numb and his chest ache? “O-okay, daddy,” he chokes out, reveling in the look of pleasure that surfaces from Michael

Jeremy is flung down on the bed then, spread eagle style, and Michael is rummaging around in a nearby drawer. He holds up cuffs and restraints, then gets to work locking them around Jeremy’s wrists and ankles and tying them to the bedposts. He stops when he’s at Jeremy’s left hand, his gaze fixated on the tattoo on his upper arm. It’s partly covered by his sleeve, but still visible. Michael gives a little chuckle, then rolls up his sleeve to reveal a Pac man tattoo that’s just like Jeremy’s. “Wow,” he says, lining his arm up with Jeremy’s. “I guess it must be fate.”

As Michael moves on to binding his feet, Jeremy stretches his arms out above him. He can move them a little bit, but not quite enough. The cuffs are made of a soft velvety material so they’re soft and uncomfortable, unlike the rope some people liked to use on him. His wrists always had red marks on circled around them for days afterward, and he didn’t mind the marks at first, but then they started to burn every time his sleeves chafed against them at work.

Michael finishes up his handiwork on his face and then crawls up on the bed, over Jeremy’s body. He’s straddling his waist with his hands cupping his face. “Color, baby?” he asks, dragging a thumb down his cheek. Jeremy wants to reach up and kiss him, but he can’t move enough.

“Green...daddy,” he says, earning a look of approval from Michael.

“Now, before we get started,” he says. “I remember back at the club you said you wanted to be called names. Is there anything I shouldn’t say? Like, something that would maybe trigger you?”

This is new. No one’s ever asked that before. And while there aren’t any words that he thinks might trigger him, per se, he has been called things during scenes that he didn’t particularly like. Things that were just taking it a bit too far for his liking. “Don’t call me any slurs,” he says. “And don’t say anything about my appearance.”

“I couldn’t,” Michael says. “You’re beautiful.” He stands up and moves away from the bed, leaving Jeremy feeling cold and alone. He’s rummaging around in the same drawer from before. “I have something else we could try. It’s kind of intense, so it’s perfectly understandable if you don’t want to do it. I’m--I’m going to tell you what it is before I show you because I don’t want to scare you...it’s a knife.” And for a minute, Jeremy thinks that it’s finally happening. This is going to be the night he gets murdered. But Jeremy has actually been wanting to try this but he hadn’t been able to find the right person who he trusted enough to take a knife near his skin. Maybe he was a little crazy for trusting Michael so soon, and maybe that quick trust would end up being the death of him. “I won’t cut you or anything. I’ll just use the dull side. And I’ve done this before, I’m really careful.”

In Jeremy’s logic, it doesn’t matter what he says. If Michael is a serial killer, he’ll stab him either way, so he might as well take this opportunity while he has it. “O-okay,” Jeremy stutters. He watches Michael pull the knife out of the drawer, holding it carefully. It’s not very big, and it doesn’t look like the type of knife someone would use to kill someone. “You could kill me right now,” he says. This is possibly one of the stupidest things he’s done, and he’s done a lot of stupid things.

“If it’s too much, we can stop,” he says, but Jeremy shakes his head no in determination. Michael moves closer, steadily slow, until he’s on the bed again kneeling between Jeremy’s spread legs. “How expensive were these clothes?” he asks.

“Not at all.” He knows where Michael is going with this. And it’s one of the hottest things Jeremy has ever experienced.

“I’ll give you some clothes to borrow before you leave. Color?”

“Green, so fucking green,” he spits out. Then Michael is moving the knife up to the collar of his shirt, tipping the blade against the fabric, and dragging down until the threads start to tear. The blade is so close to his skin, if he flinches, sneezes, breathes too heavy, it’ll cut him. Michael cuts into the shirt enough that he can rip it open at the front. He sets the knife aside, grabs two fistfuls of the shirt and tears it apart. The sound makes Jeremy gasp.

The only part left is the sleeves. Michael glides the sharp edge along the seam of each sleeve until it’s falling off of Jeremy’s body, pooling around him on the bed. He lets out a breath, shaky and needing more. He’s hard, aching against his boxers. “Please,” he manages to mumble. “Please hurry.”

“I don’t think you’re in a position to be making demands right now,” Michael says, gently placing the dull side of the knife against Jeremy’s chest. Even though it’s not sharp, he’s careful not to press down, but Jeremy still takes in a sharp breath at the feeling of the metal on his skin. The fabric of his boxers is much thinner, so it’s easier for Michael to cut through. He cautiously draws a line on each side of his boxers with the sharp side of the blade. He pulls them off, along with the shirt, and tosses them to the floor. “You did good,” he says, sitting back and admiring Jeremy’s body. “Though I suppose you didn’t really do much other than lie there. Good at being useless, I guess.”

Jeremy can already feel himself slipping into a loss of all self-control, a space where he can shut off his mind and forget about everything. “Thank you, daddy,” he says politely.

Michael leans up over him, knife in hand, and gently drags the dull side down his chest. It tickles over his stomach but Jeremy tries not to move too much. With just one wrong move, he could end up with a gash in his chest. But Michael is meticulous, predicting Jeremy’s every move, and somehow Jeremy knows he’s safe. “You’re hard, baby boy,” Michael points out, his voice condescending. It only adds to how turned on Jeremy is. “Are you getting off on being helpless?”

“Mmhmm,” Jeremy hums eagerly. Michael sets the knife down on his bedside table and it hits with a clang.

“I could leave you here, spread and tied down like this, always ready for me,” Michael says. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you, baby?”

“Yes, daddy,” Jeremy agrees. “I’d love that. I’d love to be your toy.”

“That sounds really good,” Michael says. Jeremy thinks that Michael is going to fuck him now, which he needs desperately. He’s so hard, he’s been hard since the moment Michael slammed him against the door when they first got to his apartment. He gets his hopes up, only for them drop not even seconds after. “But daddy doesn’t want to use his toy just yet.”

Jeremy is about to start begging, but he knows it’s not going to make a difference. Besides, there’s another part of him that is eager to see what else Michael plans on doing to him. He sees Michael pull out a vibrator and a bottle of lube. It’s going to be a long night. Michael starts stretching him, his fingers slathered with lube and working quick. “Surprised a little slut like you is still so tight after getting fucked so often,” Michael says, circling his fingers around. “It’s never enough, is it? You’re always needing somebody to take you down a notch, but it’s never enough. Pathetic, if you ask me.”

It’s like he’s inside his head and Jeremy is moaning in response to everything he says, wordlessly telling him that he’s right.

“And now this,” Michael says, holding the vibrator against his open hole. He hasn’t turned it on yet. “This won’t be enough for you either. But that’s the thing about you — you haven’t earned the privilege of having enough just yet.” Jeremy melts into the bed at each word, at each push as Michael starts sliding the vibrator in.

“You’re not,” Jeremy starts to say through a wrecked groan. “You’re not going to fuck me?”

Michael laughs. He laughs at him. “Maybe, darling,” he says. “If you’re good.”

With the vibrator in place, he takes a step back. There’s a chair on one side of the room, and Michael pulls it closer so it’s at the foot of the bed. He takes a seat and holds up a controller to the vibrator, showing it to Jeremy. “I hold all of the control in my hand, right here,” he says, running his hands lightly over the buttons, but not pressing on any of them. He knows he can come like this, he just needs a little more.

“Turn it on,” Jeremy says, his throat scratchy and raw. “Please, daddy, turn it on.”

“Louder,” Michael orders.

“I need it on,” Jeremy begs, his voice growing louder, more hoarse, with each word. “Please, please, I’ll do anything. Please turn it on.” He’s squirming in his binds now, trying to move the vibrator enough for it to brush against his prostate. It’s a useless attempt.

“These walls are pretty thin, someone could hear you,” Michael tsks. He’s so close to pressing one of the buttons, it’s all Jeremy needs.

He has no dignity left. He doesn’t give a shit who hears him, he’ll let them hear him. If it’s going to get Michael to give him what he wants, then he’ll make sure they hear him. “I don’t care who hears, daddy. Please give it to me.” He’s on the verge of screaming now. If anyone is home next door, they’re hearing him for sure. He can’t find the strength to care

“Disgusting,” Michael says, then turns it on to the highest setting. It sends a jolt through Jeremy’s whole body, each of his limbs trembling with the overwhelming force. He hears a familiar noise and glances up to see Michael still in his chair, jeans around his ankles, fist around his cock. His mouth waters at the sight, and suddenly he realizes just how right Michael was, because this vibrator could never be enough when Michael is sitting there looking like that. “That’s good. Keep your eyes on me,” he says.

Jeremy does, eyes locked on Michael as he struggles to stay composed. He’s trying to twist his hips with the little amount of space that he has to move. If he can just fuck himself back on the vibrator, even if it’s just a little bit, it’ll be enough for him with how far gone he already is. “You can keep squirming around all you want,” Michael says. It’s pretty dark in the room, but there’s a lamp on that illuminates his skin, sweat glistening on his muscles. “It’s only going to make you more needy.”

Michael is messing with the controls now, turning it all the way down and letting Jeremy have a break before launching it all the way back up to the highest setting. He never keeps it on one setting for too long, and he definitely doesn’t leave it on the highest one long enough for Jeremy to get off. He knows exactly what he’s doing to Jeremy: he’s ruining him.

Jeremy knows he’s right. He’s going to keep struggling and he’s going to keep working himself up, but he still won’t be able to come. He needs to do something, he needs Michael’s hands on him. “Michael…” he moans, but he quickly realizes his mistake and scrambles to correct himself. “Daddy, need you to touch me,” he pleads, hoping this will be enough. “Anywhere. Need you to touch me anywhere.”

“Anywhere, huh?” Michael repeats, standing up. He’s still wearing his shirt, but at least he’s bare from the waist down. “Makes sense that a useless cockslut like you doesn’t care where you’re touched, so desperate for it that you’d take it anywhere.”

But Michael doesn’t touch his cock like he was hoping for. Instead, he brings his hands up to his neck, wrapping them around his collar. He presses his fingers against his neck, just enough for him to have to take in deeper breaths. You said anywhere,” Michael teases. And then the first tear drops. It comes from the corner of his eye as he blinks, sliding down his reddened cheek until it’s caught by Michael’s lips. “Color, baby?” He takes his hands off of Jeremy’s neck, but Jeremy still finds it difficult to speak with how overstimulated he is. “Need me to stop, love? We can stop now.”

“Green, green,” Jeremy finally says. “Please don’t stop.”

“That’s what I thought, baby,” Michael says with a smirk. Jeremy can still feel tears on his cheeks, because God, he’s so fucking frustrated. He thinks he may actually combust if he doesn’t come in the next minute. Michael is reaching over to the bedside table, hand wrapping around the knife. He holds it carefully at the end of the handle, right where the metal blade meets the plastic, and he draws the other end of the handle over Jeremy’s lips. “Open,” he says.

Fuck. Is he really about to do this? He doesn’t have much time to think this through, because he’s already opening his lips and the handle of the knife is already halfway in his mouth. He can see himself in the reflection of the blade. Cheeks red and streaked with fears, eyes glassy, lips wet and pink around the knife. He looks like a mess. He is a mess.

Michael encourages him, slowly moving the handle back and forth past his lips as if it’s an actual dick. And Jeremy makes it sloppy, filthy and sloppy, wrapping his tongue around the handle and coating it with saliva. When Michael pulls it out past his lips, it’s wet. A part of Jeremy is ashamed, but an even bigger part of him is more turned on than he’s ever been in his life.

“Hmm, that’s a good boy,” Michael says. He sets the knife aside again and moves towards Jeremy’s cock. “I think you deserve this, don’t you?”

“Yes, daddy,” Jeremy says immediately. He’s so close. Just a few touches from Michael will send him over the edge. “I’ve been so good. I’m so close, please touch me.”

Michael answers by wrapping his hand around his cock. Jeremy throws his head against the pillow, eyes fluttering shut as Michael starts to stroke him. He realizes soon that Michael is still holding the controller of the vibrator, and he flicks it back up to the highest speed as he works his hand over Jeremy’s dick.

And it’s all so much. The buzz of the vibe, relentless, always there but never enough. The ache of the binds around his wrists and his ankles, keeping him from touching himself or Michael. Finally, though, there are skilled hands on him, handling him roughly but still with care. Jeremy comes, exhausted and limp against the bed, spilling all over Michael’s hand and his own abdomen.

Michael turns off the vibrator, but he keeps his hand on him as he comes down from his high and slowly starts to catch his breath. “Beautiful,” he praises, but Jeremy barely hears. He’s practically on another planet. “Suck me off?” Michael asks, pumping a hand over his own cock.

Jeremy wants to. He really wants to. But he doesn’t think he can. He feels numb all over, like even if his restraints were gone, he wouldn’t be able to move. “I’m sorry,” he mumbles. It feels shitty, saying no after Michael gave him all of that. “I’m sorry, I can’t do it.”

“That’s okay, baby,” Michael says, his voice going back to being soft and caring. “You don’t have to apologize. It’s okay.” He lets Michael straddle his waist and Michael keeps his gaze focused on Jeremy as he strokes himself to his orgasm. It doesn’t take long, which tells Jeremy that he must have been close all this time, meaning he had been holding himself back until Jeremy came. That means more to Jeremy than it probably should. Michael comes on Jeremy’s chest, making a mess of his otherwise flawless pale skin. “Look at you, all covered in come. A pretty little cumdump.” Jeremy can’t argue with that. “One more thing.”

Jeremy almost protests because there’s no way he can take anything more. But then he sees Michael grab a marker from a drawer, and he’s writing something on Jeremy’s waist. It’s small, and upside down, so Jeremy can’t make out what it says. “Perfect,” Michael says. He unties Jeremy and kisses him softly, running his hands over his skin. His hands feel softer than they did before somehow. “Let me clean you up. I’ll be right back.”

He leaves to get a towel, and when he returns, he’s wiping off Jeremy’s chest. This isn’t how it usually happens. Usually, Jeremy has to clean himself and whoever he was with doesn’t bother with making sure he’s okay afterward. And sometimes, when it’s really bad, he’ll fall into a drop for the following days. Rich is always there to help him out if it. But this is different. “You did so good for me, baby,” he says. “So good. I’ll get you some clothes.”

He goes over to his dresser and pulls out a pair of boxers that are covered in an ugly weed print design. “These used to be my favorite, but they’re getting small on me. You can keep them.”

Jeremy pulls them on and wraps himself up on the blanket that’s on the bed. “Thanks,” he says. It’s the first word he’s spoken since he came, and it feels like just the right thing to say. “You know…” he starts to say. “You didn’t even fuck me, and you’re still somehow the best I’ve ever had.”

And after all of that, after the collar and the tying him up and the knife, for fuck’s sake, Michael blushes. “Really? You mean that?”

“Yeah, you were...amazing,” he laughs. Michael pulls his boxers back on and lies down next to Jeremy, pulling him in close to his chest and holding him there. “And this...this means a lot to me. Like, you know, actually caring about me. That doesn’t happen too often.”

And for once, Jeremy doesn’t feel empty.

Michael rubs a hand through his hair, gently soothing him. “You did perfect,” he says. “Do you want anything? Some water? Ice cream?”

“Just want you to stay here right now,” Jeremy says. He can feel Michael’s chest against his back, the steady rise and fall of his heart beating.

“Next time,” Michael says.

Jeremy quickly cuts him off before he can finish saying whatever he wanted to say. “Told you, I don’t do next times.” As amazing as Michael is, rules are rules.

“Shit, sorry, Michael apologizes. Jeremy hates hearing the disappointment in his voice. Maybe his rules are a bit harsh, but he needs them to keep his life on track. He doesn’t need himself getting distracted by something stupid like love.

Jeremy falls asleep in his bed. Usually, he’ll wake up before his partner of the night and slip out before they can say anything to him, but not this time. When he wakes up, Michael is already in the kitchen standing over a pan of eggs. “You hungry?” he asks.

“No thanks.” He’s still wearing Michael’s ugly weed boxers, but that’s all he’s wearing. He doesn’t have any other clothes, they’ve been destroyed.

“Oh! Clothes!” Michael says, remembering what he did the night before. He turns the stove on low and leads Jeremy to his closet, opening the door and gesturing to his (limited) supply of clothes. “Pick something out. Anything. I owe it to you for ruining your clothes last night.”

Jeremy flips through the clothes and pulls out a t-shirt with an old Nintendo game system on the front. It’s kind of perfect. He also grabs a pair of grey sweatpants, since Michael has two that are just like them. “Can I take these?”

“They’ll look cute on you,” Michael says, leaning in to peck him on the lips.

“What about, the um…” Jeremy says, reaching up to point to the collar that’s still around his neck.

“Keep it. It suits you.”

Jeremy gets dressed and starts heading for the door again, but he stops in the kitchen where Michael is back to cooking. “Are you sure you don’t want any eggs?” he asks, looking over his shoulder.

“I’m sure,” Jeremy says. It’s never like this when he leaves. He’s always in a hurry, rushing out the door at the first chance he gets. There’s something in him telling him to linger for a while longer. “I think...I’m going to go now.”

He hears Michael sigh, and he turns around to face him. God, he looks adorable in the morning, his hair messy. He’s wearing just a t-shirt and boxers, baggy, but still complimenting his frame. “I can’t believe I’m not going to see you again,” Michael says, pulling him in for a hug.

“If our paths ever cross again,” Jeremy says. “Then we’ll call it fate.”

“Okay,” Michael says, nodding. “Bye, then.”

“Bye.” Jeremy leaves reluctantly, giving Michael one last glance before he shuts the door behind him.

When Jeremy gets home, he goes straight to the bathroom for a shower. He folds Michael’s clothes carefully — it’s all he has left of him. He takes off the collar as well, admiring it again. It is really pretty. But what’s more important is that he remembers Michael writing something on his chest, and then he couldn’t see what it said before. He turns in the mirror, traces the letters, lets out a soft gasp when he realizes what it says.

There, inked on his skin in dark black marker:

Property of Michael Mell <3


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im a bad bitch you cant kill me 
> 
> Anyways, if you're interested in the story that follows but not the unnecessarily intense smut from before, you can start reading from here! Essentially what happens in the first part is that Jeremy inherited a company from his father so he's extremely stressed out, but he takes his stress out by hooking up with strangers. One of those strangers happens to be Michael, who he actually had a connection with, but he refuses to see him again because he doesn't want to get attached to anyone.

Jeremy is sitting in his office at work, nursing a black coffee, reading over the report one of the financial administrators sent him over the weekend. The more he looks at it, the worse it gets. He has no idea where the fuck Kevin got these numbers from, but none of them make any sense. This is the kind of shit that really pisses him off -- employees who can’t do the one thing they were hired to do right. He hears a knock at his door and he looks up to see Christine, the human resources manager, peering through the window of his door. He makes a hand gesture to let her know it’s okay to come in and she steps inside, holding a clipboard stacked with papers out in front of her. 

“Morning,” he says, still squinting at the numbers on his screen. If he keeps staring, he’s going to go blind, so he eventually peels his eyes away. “Can you talk to Kevin from finance? Give him two weeks and start looking for someone else, everything he gives me is bullshit.” She scratches her head but nods and makes a note on one of her many papers. “Any news on the new executive assistant, by the way? I’ve got way too much to do, I can’t keep up with scheduling all of these stupid department meetings when I’ve got clients to meet with.” 

“Yes, actually, that’s what I’m here to talk to you about,” she says. Jeremy instantly perks up. He’s been waiting for this for a while. With the quarter coming to a close soon, he’s busier than ever with meetings, calls from clients, even trips to other accounting firms to compare data. And there’s no way he can keep doing a million things at once. It’s not like he even wanted to do this in the first place, he was sort of forced into it when he decided that all of his other dreams were unrealistic. He worked there throughout college, climbing up the chain, until his dad retired and he took his place. Sure, he was probably one of the youngest CEOs in the country and he had a job that would be more than enough to keep him sustained for the rest of his life, but he still wasn’t happy. 

Would this ever be enough? He sincerely doubted it. 

“Oh, that’s great,” Jeremy says, instantly feeling relieved. Maybe he’ll finally be able to get his shit together and sort out the unorganized mess that is his schedule. “Did you already hire them? When can they start?” 

“Well, as you know, I’ve been interviewing candidates for a few weeks now,” she says. Of course Jeremy knows. Christine was always so thorough with her interviews, Jeremy really doesn’t know how the hell Kevin from finance managed to slip through her rigorous screening process. “And I think I’ve finally found the right person. He’s very excited about the job, his resume and application were very professional, and he was so charming during the interview. Very cute too, which isn’t the reason why--”

“Christine?” Jeremy cuts her off. “That all sounds great, but when can he start?” 

“Oh, he’s here now.” 

Jeremy blinks at her a few times and subconsciously straightens his tie, adjusts his blazer over his shoulders. “ _ Now?  _ Shit. I guess I should go meet him.” He’s nervous. He’s always nervous when meeting new people, especially when those people are going to be directly working for him. Maybe he should have gotten used to this by now, but he still finds his hands getting clammy at the thought of awkward introductions. 

“He’s just waiting down in the lobby. I can take you down now if you’re not too busy.” 

He is busy, he’s  _ always  _ busy. But he won’t be so busy anymore once he gets this new assistant. “Yeah, that’s fine,” he says standing up from his desk. As they head towards the elevators, he has to keep stopping to shake hands and say good morning to employees when all he really wants to do is ignore them and get to the lobby as soon as he can. The elevator ride isn’t too long, thank God, and they don’t have to stop on every floor like they do sometimes. When the doors open on the bottom floor, he immediately starts looking around the room for the new hire. He doesn’t even notice when the receptionist greets him. 

He follows Christine through the lobby, and when he sees who’s sitting at a chair by the window at the front, he has to do a double take. Because there’s no way that’s  _ Michael  _ sitting there, in the lobby of his company, the same guy who cut off his clothes and tied him up and fucked him with a vibrator. There’s  _ no fucking way  _ this is happening to him. 

“Mr. Heere, this is Michael Mell,” Christine says. And all Jeremy can think about is  _ property of Michael Mell.  _

This isn’t going to work. 

When Michael looks up, Jeremy’s heart is pounding and he feels dizzy and he knows everyone can see that he looks like he’s seen a ghost, but there’s nothing he can do about it. He wouldn’t be surprised if he fainted right there in the lobby. Michael stretches a hand out and he’s saying something, but Jeremy is so stunned that he forgets what to do, he forgets what to say. He feels Christine softly nudge him on his shoulder and he feels a flash of reality, so he shakes Michael’s hand. Michael has to realize how badly he is shaking. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Heere,” Michael says with a smile. “I can’t wait to start.” 

This  _ isn’t  _ going to work. He’s been standing there staring, not saying anything, for way too long now. Christine is going to start getting suspicious and that’s the last thing he needs right now. He just needs to do  _ something.  _ “I’ll show you around,” he says, already walking towards the elevator. He doesn’t turn around to make sure Michael is following him. He has to keep himself  _ composed  _ and  _ professional.  _ He hits the button for the top floor and when the doors close, Christine is busy talking to the receptionist so she misses the elevator. It’s just him and Michael. 

“What the  _ fuck  _ are you doing here?” Jeremy asks. He punctuates his point by slamming a palm down against the wall, so loud that it echoes and Michael flinches. “You can’t do this. You can’t work here. You’ll have to tell Christine you changed your mind or  _ something,  _ please just think of  _ something.”  _

“No fucking way. I earned this job here, I’m not giving it up now.” 

“Michael, you  _ have to,”  _ he pleads. 

The elevator stops and the door opens at the top floor. They need to continue this conversation, but the office is pretty busy today and it’s hard to get any privacy. There is one place he knows that will be empty though. There’s a conference room on this floor and there aren’t any meetings in there today. 

He leads Michael through the office in a hurry, and this time, he doesn’t even stop to greet the people that say hi to him. Most of them already don’t like him anyway. “I need this job,” Michael continues once they’re alone again in the conference room. It’s pretty big and mostly away from the busiest part of the office, but Jeremy still locks the door behind them. 

“Sorry, but you’re going to have to find another one,” Jeremy says. He’s leaning back against the oval desk, hands gripping so tight to the edge that his knuckles are turning white. He’s pretty sure if he lets go he’ll fall to the floor. 

“It’s not that easy for some of us. Not all of us have rich daddies that can give us jobs at their million dollar companies.”  _ God,  _ he’s such an asshole. How does he even know that? “That’s right. Christine told me all about you. I know.” 

_ Dammit.  _ And she was always his most reliable employee. “Do you think it’s fucking easy doing this job? I never even wanted it in the first place, and now I’m stuck here, barely sleeping, putting myself through hell, and hooking up with sadistic fucking freaks like  _ you.” _

Michael just looks at him for a few moments, maybe in shock, maybe a little scared. But then he’s staring at his neck and Jeremy is swallowing down a lump that’s formed in his throat. He tries to shift the collar of his shirt back up, but it’s too late. Michael has already seen it. “Come here,” he says from a few feet across the room. Jeremy isn’t thinking when he’s moving forward, standing in front of Michael, letting him peel back the collar of his shirt. It goes up pretty far on his neck, so he thought it would be enough to cover what he was wearing under it. Apparently, he was wrong. “You’re wearing it.”

Jeremy rips Michael’s hands off of him and steps back. “That doesn’t mean anything,” he protests. “I’m just wearing it because it’s pretty, okay? Nothing more.” 

“You’re wearing it because you miss me,” Michael says. “You thought you weren’t going to see me again, so you put it on because it reminds you of me.” Jeremy doesn’t need to say anything. Michael already knows that he’s right, he’s won. Jeremy stares down at the tiled floor, at his ugly Nordstrom dress shoes, wondering how the fuck he ended up here. “You said it yourself. If we met again, we’d call it fate. And here we are.” 

“Fate isn’t  _ real,”  _ Jeremy argues. “I was just saying that. I didn’t mean it.”

Michael looks defeated, like he’s run out of ways to argue with him. He shoves his hands in his pockets and glances around the room as an unsettling silence falls over them. “If it really makes you that uncomfortable I guess I’ll just...tell Christine this job isn’t what I thought it was.” Jeremy can’t peel his eyes away from the look on Michael’s face. His lips are downturned, face blushing red, and he is pretty sure those are tears starting to form in the corners of his eyes. Jeremy has to sit down in the chair at the head of the table, resting his head in his hands. What the fuck is he doing? He can’t turn Michael away from this job just because he’s scared of getting close to people. 

“One week,” he finally says, swallowing his pride. “One week here, and if you don’t royally fuck it up, I’ll think about letting you stay.” 

Michael’s face lights up, from his eyes to his nose to his cheeks. “Thank you so much. I swear I won’t disappoint you,” Michael says. “But I have to ask one thing…”

“Don’t push it, Mell.”

“Did you think about me after you left? At all?”

He did. He still does. He thinks about him when he’s sitting down at the bar and Rich is talking to him but he isn’t paying attention because he’s looking out at the rest of the club hoping that maybe he’ll catch a glimpse of that red sweatshirt again. He thinks about him when his stranger of the night is wrapping his wrists in rope, he thinks about his fingers gently securing the cuffs on his hands. He thinks about his voice and his body and his dick. He thinks about him when he touches himself, late at night when he’s too exhausted to go find someone to do it for him. He thinks about how things might have been different if he stayed at Michael’s for eggs that morning. 

But more importantly — and this is the weird part — he catches himself thinking about Michael in ways that have nothing to do with sex. He thinks about his glasses framing his eyes. He thinks about the tattoo he has that matches his own. He thinks about his hair the morning after and he thinks about how he hugged him before he left and let him take some of his clothes. And he can’t figure out how to turn those thoughts off. 

“No, I didn’t,” he forces himself to say. He tries to keep his voice in the stern tone he uses for business meetings, but his voice cracks just slightly and Michael definitely notices. He’ll stop thinking about Michael eventually. If he lets himself forget, the thoughts will start to fade until they’re gone for good. “I have a meeting soon. While I’m gone, take any calls and let them know I’m not in my office now. Schedule a time for me call them back as well. You can find my schedule on a spreadsheet program on my computer.” 

And then he leaves without another glance, not wanting to see the look on Michael’s face as he’s left alone in the room, Jeremy’s words still ringing in his ears. 

“Okay, just...where exactly is your office?”

“Figure it out, Mell.” 

-

The meeting is, as he expected it to be, painfully slow and extremely disheartening. He’s at the head of the table, surrounded by the other executives, trying to figure out where the fuck they went wrong but instead his mind is swarming with thoughts of Michael and how he’s going to put up with working by his side every day. The financial officer is standing in front of a PowerPoint presentation, using a finger to trace lines that connect their profits over the months, and she’s speaking with a nervous drawl. She keeps glancing over at Jeremy, like she’s half expecting him to snap at any second, and usually he would. But right now, he doesn’t have the energy. “Mr. Heere, are you feeling alright?” she asks, interrupting the presentation. 

Jeremy looks up from the blank piece of paper he’s been staring at. He’s supposed to be taking notes. Usually, one whole side of the paper would have been filled by now, ideas and issues scrawled all over each other in a way that only he could decipher. But now it’s just...nothing. He’s been slouching, he notices, so he corrects himself, sitting up in his chair and looking around the room to see that all eyes are on him. He sniffles, scratches the side of his head, taps his pen on the table once. “Yes, everything’s fine. As you were saying, Ms. Lohst.” 

“Oh, okay, great,” she says, turning back to the projector screen. Jeremy tries this time, he really tries to pay attention. This is his company on the line here, his  _ dad’s  _ company. She starts speaking again, flipping through notecards fluidly and barely glancing at them as she explains the situation. “So, as you can see here,” she pauses, continues tracing one of the convenient data graphs. “We’ve lost a lot of clients this quarter and haven’t gained enough to make up for that loss.” 

Jeremy should be furious right now. He should be yelling at his employees, trying to find someone,  _ anyone,  _ to blame for the start of their downfall. Instead, he’s sitting calmly in his chair, arms folded in front of him, staring ahead blankly as everyone waits patiently for him to say something. “Mr. Heere, are you sure everything’s alright?” he hears a concerned voice say. 

He needs to say something, he needs to be a leader, but he can’t think because his mind is already occupied entirely by Michael, worried thoughts of “how long can I put up with him?” and “oh God, now that he’s here these thoughts are never going to go away.” What he needs is to clear his head. The COO who’s sitting next to him has brought in a bottle of water, unopened and untouched so far. Without thinking, he reaches over and grabs it, downing three-fourths of the bottle before slamming it back down on the conference table. The cold rushes to his head and gives him enough time to form at least one coherent sentence that doesn’t involve his new assistant down the hall. “Does anyone have any suggestions?”

The CTO raises his hand, as if they’re in a class and Jeremy is the teacher. Jeremy doesn’t say anything, just points to him and waits for him to speak. He starts going off about some new program that would apparently make it easier for clients to communicate with representatives, but Jeremy is lost on the specifics. “Uh, yeah, sounds great. Meet with your department and get that set up ASAP,” he mutters. He picks up his pen, makes a quick note about the new program so he’ll remember it later. The room falls silent again, void of any murmurs, and he realizes they’re all expecting him to say something else. “Anyone else?” he asks desperately, hoping there’s someone who can pitch an idea and get the discussion started up again so he can sit back and not have to say anything. 

“I’m sorry, Mr. Heere,” Ms. Lohst says. Her voice is quiet and timid, giving away that she’s scared Jeremy is going to snap at her. He won’t. “It’s just that we’re all...at a loss. Don’t you have any ideas?” 

Of  _ course _ he doesn’t have any ideas. He could barely force himself to scribble down one line of notes, there’s no way he could think of a solution to all of their problems right now. “This meeting is adjourned. Everyone think of a possible solution and we’ll meet again next week to discuss a plan.”

Jeremy doesn’t bother staying long enough to say goodbye to the other executives or for them to ask questions. He bolts out the door with his almost blank sheet of paper and walks down the hall, a pit growing in his stomach. He forgot that getting out of that awful meeting meant he’d have to face Michael again. He considers going to the bathroom and hiding for a while, but that’s only going to prolong the inevitable. He has to remind himself that he is the  _ CEO  _ and Michael is merely his  _ assistant.  _ He has all of the power. 

He opens the door to his office and goes weak-kneed at the sight of Michael so fixated on something on the computer screen that he didn’t even hear Jeremy come in. His eyes are intense and narrow, but there’s a softer side of him that still daintily uses one finger to push his glasses up farther on the bridge of his nose. 

And maybe he has a lot less power than he thought. 

Michael finally looks up from whatever was so interesting on the computer and his eyes land on Jeremy. His lips twitch up, like he’s about to break into a smile, but they quickly go back down into a flat line as he speaks. “How was the meeting, Jeremy?” 

Jeremy walks over to his deck, shoves his notes into a pile of other unorganized sheets of paper. “Shit,” he mumbles. Michael nods, rocking back in his chair. Jeremy’s desk usually is a clutter, but today, there’s something particularly off about the clutter of his workspace. “What is this?” he asks pointing to a cup nearing the middle of the desk, a little too close to his papers for comfort. 

“Oh, right. It’s chamomile tea. Christine went out to get coffee and asked if I wanted anything, so I bought you this. On me. It’s supposed to be good for a sore throat.” 

It takes Jeremy a minute to process what Michael is implying. It makes his whole face go red and he wants to throw the scalding hot tea in his face. “I can have you fired right now, so you better watch what you say,” he threatens. 

“Woah, dude, calm down,” Michael says, sinking back further into the chair. He even momentarily brings his forearms up to cover his face like he’s scared Jeremy is actually going to hit him. “I just figured your throat might be sore after talking all that time during the meeting. I just wanted to do something nice as a thanks. Sorry, though, if you really hate tea that much.” Jeremy’s face is still red, but now it’s from embarrassment rather than anger. He hopes Michael won’t realize what he thought he was implying, but it’s too late and Michael is grinning and leaning forwards again. “Oh! You thought I was making a joke about your throat being sore from sucking so much dick!” 

Jeremy wants to splash that tea in his face more now than ever. “ _ Stop _ ,” Jeremy says, but he doesn’t deny it. Michael has this teasing look on his face, like he wants to say something else, but he doesn’t. “Move over. I need to see my schedule,” Jeremy says, gesturing to his chair. There’s only one chair at his desk and Michael doesn’t seem too happy about standing. “Get up,” Jeremy says again, but Michael remains still, looking up at him with tempting eyes. 

“You’re small. You can sit in my lap,” Michael suggests, wheeling the chair back a bit so Jeremy can fit. Jeremy shifts his weight, crosses his arms, and gives Michael a look of warning. “I’m being serious. Go ahead, sit in my lap.” 

Jeremy doesn’t feel like standing there arguing with him for the rest of the day and he’s anxious to see what Michael has done with his schedule, so he complies, resting in the center of Michael’s lap. He feels an arm snake around his waist and rest on his outer thigh. He should brush him off, but he doesn’t. 

“If you get hard, you’re fired.” It’s meant to be intimidating, but he hears Michael laugh from behind him. 

“You wouldn’t fire me.”

“Oh really?” He hears the joking tone in his own voice and clears his throat, forcing his grin down into a perfect poker face. He tries to work up his professional voice again, erases any trace of a smile. “Don’t get cocky, Mell. You haven’t even been here a day.” 

“You keep calling me that. Mell,” Michael points out. “Just say my name.”

Calling him by his last name is easier. It’s less personal. It keeps him detached. He reads over the schedule that Michael filled out and is disappointed to see just how many phone calls he needs to make. However, he is pleased to see that Michael has taken down any information he could need — the name of the caller, why they were calling, when they called, and of course when Jeremy was supposed to call them back. Everything’s there. “Thanks,” he says, and he’s now noticing that each block is color-coded for the specific reasons that each person called. “This is...really helpful, actually.” 

“Told you couldn’t fire me,” Michael says with a shrug. Jeremy closed out of the window to see what else Michael was up to on his computer. On his desktop, there used to be files everywhere, covering every inch of the screen. But now, they’re all gone except for a few folders. He clicks on one titled “Past Financials” and opens it up to see an orderly list of all of the company’s financial records, dating back to when they first started. He opens up the next one titled “Current Clients” and gets a list of every client they’re serving. Even better, each name can be opened up to reveal the specifics — how long they’ve been there, how much they’re paying, etc. “No wonder you were so stressed,” Michael says. “Everything was a mess.” 

Jeremy keeps clicking through everything, investigating each folder. He’s pretty sure hiring an assistant is the best thing he’s ever done and it hasn’t even been a day yet. Once he thinks he’s gone through everything, he lets out a breath and leans back, shifting around in —  _ Michael’s lap. Oh, right.  _ He had been so busy searching around on his desktop he forgot where he was. He hears a grunt from Michael. Barely there, but still audible in the silence of the office. It takes a few moments to process, and he readjusts his weight, just to be sure. “Don’t fucking tell me you’re — are you  _ seriously  _ getting hard right now? I was joking before, I didn’t think you’d  _ actually  _ get hard!” 

Jeremy scrambled to get out of the chair and stands on wobbly legs. “Shit, sorry,” Michael mumbles. It seems like no matter what, he can never quite get that stupid grin off his face, even when he’s just got hard from his boss sitting on his lap. “It’s just that you were...y’know,  _ there.  _ And you have a really nice ass. Sorry.” 

Jeremy has to think about his breathing, slow it down. He rests his elbows on the desks, his palms open and his head resting in his hands. “God, I can’t fucking  _ believe  _ this is happening to me. How am I going to get anything done with you around here? You know what? Just take these fucking keys and go down to the bathroom on the third floor. You can lock it from the inside. Just...don’t make a mess, okay? Be sanitary for once in your life?” 

“Are you sure you don’t want to…”

“ _ Go.”  _

Michael almost knocks the chair over when he stands up in a rush and flees from the office in a hurry. 


	3. Chapter 3

It’s become routine. Jeremy will show up to his office during the week and Michael will already be there, responding to emails for him and sipping on a hot tea. And there will always be a chamomile tea ready for Jeremy, which, although he hates to admit it, he’s started to prefer over his usual black coffee. Over the weeks, it’s gotten easier working with Michael. It’s not like Jeremy’s lingering thoughts of him have disappeared, though. Not even close.

Maybe now, they’re even a little bit heightened, because everything Michael does reminds him of that night or what could have come after that night if Jeremy wasn’t such a pussy. So, no, it doesn’t get easier to work with him. Jeremy just gets better at pretending he’s not affected by the thoughts he has. “Oh, hey Jer,” Michael says when Jeremy walks into his office. He’s started calling him that now. Jer. It’s a stupid nickname, but Jeremy lets him do it if it’ll keep him happy. “Morning. Seems like a slow day today, other than that corporate meeting you have at 12.”

Shit. He totally forgot. He was supposed to have some type of plan figured out to help with the fact that their company is plummeting and they’re losing more and more clients every day. “Oh, goddammit. Goddammit. The fuck am I supposed to do?” He’s not even sure if there’s anything he can do to save them. They’d been gradually losing sales for a while now, this was bound to happen at some point. It happens to the best of them. Especially when you’re running a wealth management firm and there are hundreds of companies just like yours that are constantly finding ways to be better.

“What’s up your ass, huh?” Michael asks, in a snarky tone that Jeremy would usually smirk at but right now it’s just pissing him off.

“I was supposed to have something figured out, right? What am I supposed to tell everyone? That their CEO doesn’t know how to run a company?” He doesn’t even realize that he’s pacing around the room, probably looking like an idiot to anyone who sees him. “We’re going to fall off the map. Our clients are going to lose money. How the fuck are we supposed to reimburse them? Everyone’s going to lose their job. Fuck.”

“Can you stop pacing? It’s making me nervous.” Jeremy stops in his tracks, right in front of his desk where Michael is sitting with his feet propped up. “Can you just explain to me what’s going on? I am your assistant, you know.”

“We’ve been losing clients. Losing money. But all of a sudden it’s just...dropped. Everything has. The whole goddamn company. And I was supposed to come up with ideas to help bring everything back but...I have nothing. I don’t know what to do.” What would his dad do? He would know. He could ask him, maybe he’d have an idea.

“This isn’t something that can be fixed in a day. It’s okay that you don’t know right now, as long as you’re working towards an answer,” Michael suggests. He says it like this is the easiest thing every, like hundreds of people won’t lose their jobs if he doesn’t figure this out.

“You don’t get it, Mell,” Jeremy says. “You don’t know what it’s like. This is my dad’s company, he built this. I’m not going to be the one who lets it go to shit.”

“Jer, I’ve gotta ask you something.” Jeremy stands in front of Michael, bracing himself for the worst. “Have you ever been high?”

Jeremy scoffs and turns away, shaking his head. “What does that have to do with anything?”

“Just answer it.”

“No, I haven’t, but I don’t think that’s important…” he starts to say, and then he sees the grin growing on Michael’s face. “What? What’s up with you?”

“You need to let me get you high,” Michael says as if it’s a fact. How the fuck can he be joking around right now? God, his life would be so much easier if he just fired him. “Wait. Just hear me out. You’re so fucking overwhelmed. You need to just...calm down. You can’t think when your head is in a million different places.”

Jeremy takes a deep breath. He doesn’t want to admit it, but he’s right. He can’t do anything when he’s thinking about how much of a failure he is. If he could just take a step back for a few minutes, step out of all of the commotion, maybe he’d be able to see the situation more clearly. And skipping out on that meeting sounds really good right now. Is this going to make things worse? Probably. But he finds himself nodding along, giving in to Michael’s stupid idea. “Fine. As long as you’re talking about weed high, and not like...heroin high, or some shit.”

“You think I’d let you do heroin?” Michael asks as if he’s offended. “I would never.” Michael grabbed his bag and slung it over his shoulder, heading for the door. “Let’s get the fuck out of here.”

“I can’t believe I’m doing this. You’re such a bad influence on me,” Jeremy mumbles as they escape out the front door. No one asked any questions, thank god. Jeremy wouldn’t have been able to come up with an excuse on the spot, and he knew Michael was just as useless.

“Peer pressure,” Michael jokes, rounding the corner. Jeremy has an idea of where he lives, despite the fact that it was dark and he was horny the last time he was there. And if his memory is right, it’s not too far, meaning they can easily walk there.

He starts to wonder why he’s letting Michael take him out of work like this. It’s not like he can lose his job or anything, but he knows everyone’s going to be pissed at him. He just keeps telling himself that this is for the best, that maybe things will be harder at first but this will help in the long run. God, he hopes so. He needs a fucking break.

Michael’s apartment is where Jeremy thought it was. In the light of day, it becomes clearer how much of a mess the building is. Cracked bricks, vines growing up some of the walls, chipped paint and boarded up windows. Not that he minds. Michael leads him up the stairs, back into the room where they collided. It’s a lot different now. Before, Jeremy wasn’t paying attention to anything other than how hot Michael was and getting off. But now, he can see everything, it’s not so blurry anymore.

The apartment is pretty nice, considering how the outside looked. He’s got a living room with a small TV and a coffee table covered in books and magazines. There are a few bags of chips scattered around, but other than that it’s relatively clean. He can see into the kitchen, too, which has stupid little decorations covering the counter tops, like a wooden rooster figure and a vase of flowers on the window sill.

It looks like an apartment that should have two people in it.

“God, they’re going to kill me when I get back to work after bailing on the meeting,” Jeremy says, following Michael down the hall. They’re heading back to his bedroom, a room that Jeremy is a little too familiar with. There’s a different mood now though, and everything appears brighter. It feels more comforting.

“Shh…” Michael hums. “Don’t even worry about it. You deserve this break.” Jeremy lets himself believe it, watching Michael as he removes a plastic baggie from one of his dresser drawers. “You’ve really never done this before?”

Even if Jeremy wanted to smoke weed in high school, he wouldn’t have known where to get it. “Uh, no,” he stutters. He takes a seat on the edge of the bed, and it feels much softer now. “Am I gonna get addicted and die? What if I have a spontaneous allergic reaction?” He remembers those stupid health seminars he had in high school, where the health teacher would sit down in front of the class and lecture everyone on not giving in to peer pressure. And along with that, he also remembers everything the teachers used to spew to kids to try to scare them out of smoking weed.

“See? You worry so much. This is precisely why you need it.”

He starts packing some of it down into one of the little rectangular papers he pulled out, rolling it up to look like a cigarette. “Don’t you use one of the pipe things?” Jeremy asks. Michael snickers and sits next to him on the bed, carefully holding the joint between his fingers.

“I usually do, but you’re just a beginner. It’s easier this way.” He reaches over for a lighter and holds it to the end, lighting it up. Is he really ditching work to get high with his assistant? Fuck. He’s really fucking everything up. “Okay, just breathe it in. Careful.”

Jeremy takes it by the non lit end and does as Michael says, slowly breathing it in and holding for a few moments before releasing. He starts choking on the smoke, embarrassingly sputtering and handing the joint back to Michael as he tries desperately to catch his breath. “Jesus, fuck,” he manages to say through a few more weak coughs. “Is that supposed to happen?”

“That’s normal when you try it for the first time.” Michael holds it to his lips, effortlessly breathing in and releasing a trail of smoke from between his lips. He does it again, a bit shorter this time, and he leans back on the bed with his eyes to the ceiling. “Shit. You’re the best boss ever.”

“Can it before I fire you,” Jeremy mumbles, snatching the joint back with a new confidence after watching Michael do it. “This better fucking help.” He tries it again, and it goes a bit smoother this time. He can feel it in his lungs and he can feel it as he exhales. “This is weird.”

“Do you like it?” Michael asks.

Jeremy tried it again, considering. “I think so. When do I start feeling high?” He coughs a few more times and he’s sure that Michael is judging him for it.

“Should be soon. Give me.”

When it’s Jeremy’s turn again, he takes a hit and starts to cough as he did before, but his wheezing comes to an abrupt end. He feels light headed, almost like he’s floating. “What just happened? Michael, what’s happening?”

Michael isn’t paying any attention to him, too busy breathing in his own line of the smoke. It takes him a few moments, but he soon realizes that this must be it. This must be that “high” feeling that everyone talks about, the feeling he was supposedly missing out on. It makes him laugh, and he leans into Michael’s shoulder still laughing, mumbling something about how high he is. “Oh, me too, me too,” Michael agrees, laughing with him. They fall back into the bed and Jeremy watches the ceiling spin above him.

“I’m never moving again,” Jeremy says. They continue passing the joint back and forth, and with each hit, Jeremy feels like he’s sinking further into the mattress and soon it’ll swallow him whole. He doesn’t care, though. He feels so good, like he could stay here forever and nothing would go wrong. “You know what? Fuck meetings. Fuck business. Fuck clients, those assholes are ruining everything.”

“Yeah!” Michael cheers through a chuckle. “Fuck jobs. And you know what? Fuck capitalism. Fuck Adam Smith for inventing capitalism, too.”

And Jeremy starts to wonder why he spends so much time doing something he hates when he could just spend his life doing this. “Don’t even get me started on capitalism,” he mumbles. He flips over on his side to face Michael, struggling a bit because he feels like his limbs weigh 500 pounds. “I think I can blame capitalism for, like, every single one of my problems.”

“Oh yeah?” Michael encourages him. He flips over too, face to face with Jeremy. He takes a quick hit off of the joint, carelessly blowing the smoke into Jeremy’s face. Jeremy sputters a bit, but otherwise ignores it. “How so?”

“Okay, so, like, you already know I never wanted to be involved with this stupid company,” Michael nods along, listening eagerly. “The only reason I agreed to it is because I knew I’d never get anywhere doing what I actually wanted to do. With this, I knew it was like, the safe route. I knew I’d have a future here, even if I hated it. I mean, even though I hate my life at least 98% of the time, at least I’m not bankrupt or some shit.”

“Hmm...interesting,” Michael hums. “What did you want to do before?”

Jeremy jolts back, eyebrows scrunched up. “What do you mean?”

“You said there was something else you wanted to do.”

Oh. Right. Jeremy sighs, taking his turn with the weed. “It’s kind of stupid. You’re going to laugh at me.” Michael is already laughing, but he shakes his head anyway, denying the accusation. “Alright. Well, I always wanted to be a video game developer. That was like, my dream since I was in high school.” It hurts a little bit to talk about it, knowing that he’ll never get there. It’s like he misses it even though he never experienced it.

“That’d be so cool,” Michael says, making Jeremy smile a little. “What kind of a game? Do you have any ideas?”

Jeremy laughs a little to himself, thinking back to when he was in high school and he got the idea for this game. He thought he was some sort of genius, thought he’d become a billionaire off of his stupid idea. “It’s really dumb,” Jeremy warns him. “I came up with it because of this weird dream I had.”

“I’m intrigued now,” Michael says.

Maybe it’s just the weed, but Jeremy has never seen someone so interested in what he had to say. Not even Rich. It’s such as a good feeling, intensified by the drugs, and he starts to ramble while his worries fade. “I had this stupid fucking dream in high school. I took this weird ass Japanese pill, but like, it wasn’t just a pill. It had a computer in it.”

“That is weird,” Michael says through a throaty laugh. “How does that even work? What did it do?”

“This is where it gets crazy.” He subconsciously moves in just a little bit closer to Michael, inching forwards and making the gap between them even smaller. Michael doesn’t seem to mind. “I took the pill, and I started seeing Keanu fucking Reeves in my head. And he would tell me what to do and what to say to be cooler, and everyone actually started to like me.”

“No way,” Michael comments, gasping. “Why Keanu Reeves? This literally sounds like an acid trip.”

“It wasn’t, just a fucked dream. I swear,” Jeremy says, shaking his head in disbelief at his own story. “Anyways, after a while, Keanu started going rogue. He convinced me to give everyone in my school the weird pill thing, and these Japanese head computers basically just started taking over the world.”

“The end?”

“The end.”

“Huh,” Michael breathes. He rolls back over so he’s facing the ceiling again. Jeremy tries to read his expression, but he can’t seem to decipher what he’s thinking about. “Dreams are so weird. But...that’s your video game idea?”

He shouldn’t have even said anything. “I knew you’d think it’s stupid.”

“It’s not stupid, just kinda...grim,” he answers. “I think it’s a good idea, actually. But an ending where the villain wins just seems kinda depressing.”

“Well, I always thought it would be like one of those choose your own adventure things. So the choices you make would affect the ending,” he explains. He already has all of this thought out. He’s had it in his head for years, but never had anyone to talk to about it. “Like, if you make the wrong decisions and listen to what the computer says at the wrong time, you might end up destroying the world. If you make things right though, you’d be able to get the computer out of your head.”

“I mean, I’d play it,” Michael says. “It’s weird and different from other video games. I think it would work.”

“You think so?”

“Yeah, plus it’s got a cool backstory. A whole video game developed from an odd dream you had once? That alone would make me want to play it.” Jeremy can feel himself smiling so wide his jaw hurts. Anyone else would have told him it would never work, that he was stupid for ever thinking an idea so bizarre even had a chance. And Michael is only one person, but he’s learning that sometimes that’s all it takes. Just one person. “You mark my words, Jeremiah Heere. I am going to make all of your dreams come true.”

“You’re ridiculous,” Jeremy mumbles, but he’s smiling, and a part of him wants to believe it’s true. Skipping that meeting to get high may just be the best thing he’s ever done. He goes to grab for the joint again, but Michael pulls his hand back. “What was that for?”

“Sit up. I want to try something.” Jeremy listens to him, pulling himself up so he’s sitting. “There’s not much left.” Michael takes a deep breath of it, holding it in for a few moments too long. Before Jeremy can understand what’s happening, Michael is leaning in, too close to his lips for comfort. Instinctively, Jeremy parts his lips just slightly, just enough to feel the smoke Michael was holding in flood his mouth. Jeremy closes his eyes for a moment, slowly breathing out. “How was that?”

Jeremy’s eyes flash open, locked on Michael’s. They travel to his lips, down his neck and to his collarbone, and before he knows it he’s breaking his number one rule. He’s grabbing Michael by the collar of his sweatshirt, pulling him in close and pressing his lips to his. He’s ruining everything. He’s giving himself and Michael false hope of something neither of them could ever have. He’s fucking up his relationship with an important employee. And he’s fucking with his ability to pretend none of this matters. How could he pretend when Michael tastes so damn good?

Despite all of this, in his cloudy state of mind, he can’t find it in him to give a damn. He’ll deal with the consequences later, because right now, all he wants is Michael’s lips and his hands on him. “Shit,” Michael mutters, pulling back to put the joint out and toss it to the floor. “I’ll get that later.” He reaches his hands up and lets them fall on Jeremy’s shoulders, reaching around his back to pull him even closer. “There’s nothing like making out with someone when you’re high,” Michael says against his lips.

Jeremy can understand why. He can feel each movement more intensely, like every part of him that Michael touches lights up. He can’t even imagine what it would be like to fuck someone while high. He’s not quite there yet. Another time, maybe? His thoughts and his heart are racing when he pushes harder on Michael until he’s lying on his back. He’s straddling his waist, hiking his shirt up with his hands and placing his palms on his bare chest, breathing heavy through rough kisses. Maybe it won’t be another time. Maybe this is the time.

Jeremy starts smoothing his hands over his chest, still not breaking the kiss, just wanting to touch as much of him as possible. His body is moving on its own, moving down, a trail of kisses leading down his abdomen and getting dangerously close to his crotch. “Jer,” Michael moans, huffing out a laugh. He grabs Jeremy by the arm, pulling him up and off. “Not now.”

Surprised, Jeremy backs off, leaning back. “Why not? I mean, it’s okay. I just thought you wanted this.”

“I do, I do,” Michael reassures him. “Just...at another time. When we’re not both high out of our minds.”

Jeremy nods in agreement, it’s probably for the best anyway. He collapses on the bed next to Michael, who’s still readjusting his shirt. There’s peace for a few minutes, just the sounds of their breathing amid the afternoon. Jeremy never wants to go back to work. He never wants to spend another day in that shitty office, overwhelming himself on a constant basis for a company he doesn’t even care about. Everything’s clear now, how life would be so much simpler if he could just quit.

He can’t, though. It’s all he has.

“God, I never want to go back to work,” Jeremy says, curling up on the bed. “Can we stay here? I’m tired.”

“My boss is asking me if we can skip the rest of our shifts?” Michael laughs. “Sounds like a good idea to me.”

Jeremy, in his fuzzy state of mind, decides that skipping work is actually a great idea, and he curls up a little closer to Michael, making himself comfortable. It feels like the rest of the world has come to a stop and he’s frozen in time there, and when he comes out of his trance, everything will snap back to reality.

At least he can pretend.

-

When he wakes up again, the room has gone dim. For a few moments, he can’t remember where he is or how he got here, but he feels the pressure of Michael’s chest breathing against his and he remembers everything. He reaches into his pocket and turns on his phone — 6:42. They’ve been out for a few hours. He has about a million missed calls from Christine and the other executives, and on top of that, he has a pounding headache. Fuck, he’s such an idiot. Why did he ever agree to this?

Michael is still fast asleep, and he doesn’t seem to be ready to wake up any time soon. Jeremy carefully pries his arm away from his shoulder, trying hard not to wake him up. Once he frees himself, he stands, ready to leave. Before he does, he turns around, giving Michael a final glance. He’s disgustingly cute like this and Jeremy has to get out of there as soon as possible before he’s tempted to crawl back into bed.

On his way back to his own apartment, he dials Christine’s number and waits anxiously for her to pick up. She does on the first ring, as if she was waiting for this call. “Hey, Chris,” he says, trying not to sound completely and totally out of it. Everything’s hazy as he’s walking down the street, and he has to pay extra attention to where he’s going so he doesn’t end up colliding with someone. “Uh...sorry,” is all he can manage to say. There’s really no way he can talk himself out of this one.

“Where were you all day?” she asks. “You had that huge meeting today! Jeremy, rumors are already spreading about the company going under.”

Shit. He should have known people would start to talk, and him not being there was definitely not making matters any better. “Fuck. Okay. Listen, we’re going to be fine. Make sure everyone knows we’re going to be fine. I just needed some time alone to think, okay? That’s all. I’m better now.”

“Jeremy…” she sighs. He knows that sign very well, that’s her worry sigh. “Are you okay right now? I know this is a lot of pressure, and if there’s nothing you can do, then that’s just it. There’s nothing you can do. It doesn’t mean you’re bad at this, or whatever you think. This happens all the time, some things just aren’t meant to be.”

“Christine, everyone will lose their jobs. Clients have money invested with us, it’s...fuck. We’re fucked. Actually, no. I’m fucked. I’m going to go bankrupt.” He knows she’s just trying to be nice by assuaging his doubts, but it doesn’t make him feel any less shitty. He still knows that this is all going to fall on him, and he’s forever going to be known as a complete and utter failure. “We have to keep trying. There has to be something we can do. I just need more time.”

“How much more time?” she asks, her voice growing sharper. “I’ve been with this company just as long as you have. If this place tanks and we haven’t prepared at all, then you’re really fucked. But if we start preparing now, start laying people off and finding them new jobs, start cancelling our partnerships with the clients we have now, then maybe everything won’t turn out to be a complete disaster.” He’s so selfish. He knows that dragging out the inevitable will be worse for everyone else in the end, but he only wants to keep trying because he knows it will keep him a job for a little while longer. “Jeremy, we have to move on from this. There’s no use,” she continues. She doesn’t sound sad at all, which makes sense knowing her history. She was like him — only started working there because it was the easy way out. She had told him once that when she was younger, she dreamed of being on broadway, but was always told she was being unrealistic.

They had a lot in common.

“I’m not coming back in today,” he tells her. He’s pretty sure if he steps foot in that building one more time today he will have a full breakdown, right there in the lobby. “But I—I trust you, okay? I trust that you’ll do the right thing.”

“Okay. I’ll do my best to keep this under control.” Jeremy sighs, trying to keep himself together. Anything could happen at this point and it feels like he’s walking on pins and needles. “I love you.”

“Love you too, Christine,” he repeats, and there’s silence on the line for a few moments before it goes dead.

On his way back to his apartment, he passes by the building that houses his spot, and he wonders if Rich is working tonight. It’s not late yet, so it’s not like too many people will be there right now. He could just slip in for a few minutes to see if Rich is there, and if he isn’t then he’ll leave. He glances around at his surroundings and slips inside, the heavy wooden door slamming shut behind him.

He enters the bar, which feels odd when it’s still somewhat light outside. It’s almost completely dead, but he sees Rich behind the bar, arranging bottles nicely on the shelf and taking down the ones that are getting close to empty. “Hey,” he says, half out of breath from the walk, still shivering from the cold outside. Rich looks up, a huge smile on his face as he abandons the bottles of alcohol and approaches Jeremy.

“Oh, fuck,” Rich laughs. “I haven’t seen you here in awhile. How are you holding up?”

That’s a loaded question if Jeremy’s ever heard one.

This is going to be a long talk, he already knows, so he sits down on the bar stool across from Rich. “I...don’t know,” Jeremy answers honestly, head resting in his hands. “I just came because I don’t know who else to talk to.” He gives himself a pity laugh, trying to lighten the mood. Rich doesn’t seem to find it very funny.

“Are you okay?” Rich asks, leaning in a little closer. He has soft, honest eyes, ones that Jeremy has always felt like he could trust. “Seriously. If something’s up, you gotta tell someone.”

Where is he even supposed to begin with something like this? “Okay, you remember that guy I went home with the last time I was here? The cute one that was getting harassed by the creepy old dude?”

“Yeah, yeah, I think so,” Rich says, looking out past Jeremy like he’s deep in thought. He seems to hit a realization, and his eyes snap back to Jeremy’s. “How was he? Are you still talking to him?”

Jeremy nods. “Not...voluntarily, though. He got a job at my company. As my assistant.”

Rich gasps a little bit, leaning back like he’s in disbelief. “No shit. What’d you do? Isn’t that like, completely against your rule, or whatever?”

“At first, I was really pissed off. I almost made him quit but...I just couldn’t do it. So I let him stay. And…” Jeremy trails off, trying to come up with the right way to word this.

“And?” Rich urges.

“I don’t know. It’s just...he’s really funny, and he always makes me laugh even if I try not to show that I’m laughing. And you saw him, you saw how cute he is. And that night we met, god, he was so unlike anyone else I’ve ever met here. He let me take home some of his clothes and he actually listened to what I wanted and he offered me eggs in the morning. Eggs!”

Jeremy watches Rich’s expression soften as he rambles on. “That’s great, Jeremy. But I’m kinda confused. You’re really into him, it seems like he’s really into you. So what’s the problem?”

And this is where it gets complicated. “The problem is that this is the whole reason I never want to see someone twice. Because I’m scared I’m going to fall for someone and then that unlucky asshole is going to get stuck with me and I’m going to end up fucking up their life.”

Jeremy can’t remember if he’s told Rich about this before. He knows he’s mentioned his stupid rule before, but he doesn’t know if he’s explained his reasoning behind it. “Why the fuck would you think that?” Rich asks. “You’re a great guy, how many times do I have to tell you this? You’re so fucking smart, and you’re kind, and you care about other people, so successful…”

“Not really,” Jeremy mumbles, rolling his eyes. “Everything’s fucked up. We’re going to have to shut down the company before we go completely bankrupt. I wanted to keep trying, but Christine thinks it’s best to end this ourselves while we still can. I guess she’s right.”

Rich sighs and reaches out a hand, placing it over Jeremy’s. Jeremy flinches a little under his touch, but he doesn’t pull away. “God, I’m so sorry. I can’t even imagine. What are you going to do? After all of this, I mean?”

“I don’t fucking know,” Jeremy snaps. “That’s exactly my point. I’m a complete mess. My life is a complete mess. No one should be forced into my train wreck of a life.”

“See? That’s where you’re getting confused,” Rich says. “You wouldn’t be forcing anyone into your life. If someone cares enough about you that they want to stick with you through all of it, then that’s the important part.”

“No one would want to though,” Jeremy quickly disputes. “No one is going to stick around that long once they see how fucked everything in my life is.”

“Maybe that’s true for some people. Of course there are going to be people who aren’t ready to deal with all of that right now, and that’s okay. But you can’t keep closing everyone off assuming that that’s how they’re going to be, because you’re shutting out people who might actually care a lot about you.”

Jeremy pauses for a few moments, letting that sink in. And he knows he’s right, he’s always known that. He just doesn’t want to face the rejection of someone saying he’s too much to handle, so he chooses to avoid everyone. “I did something stupid today,” Jeremy says with an awkward smirk. “I let Michael convince me to skip work today to get high with him.”

“No way!” Rich laughs. “Jeremy Heere skipping work to smoke weed? Unbelievable.”

“Yeah, I know, I’m like some super cool badass now,” Jeremy jokes. “But anyways, while we were high, I started coming on to him. He stopped me though.”

“Okay…” Rich hums. “Not sure where you’re going with this, but okay.”

“He said he wanted to wait until we were both not high, since our minds weren’t exactly working right. And I didn’t realize it until I woke up sober, but what he did...that’s really important to me, I guess? Because I think if I had done what I was going to do, I probably would have regretted it. And him saying that, I think that tells me he actually cares and he’s not just sticking around for a fuck every once in a while. Am I being dramatic?”

“No, no I get it,” Rich nods. “He seems really great. I think you need to just go for it. With everything that’s going on right now, you need someone to be there for you. You know what I mean?”

“I guess so,” Jeremy shrugs. Is he really going to do this? He can’t even imagine himself having a boyfriend. He can’t imagine himself in a relationship where the other person genuinely cares about him, but maybe it’s possible. Maybe he just needs to try for once. “We fell asleep at his apartment and when I woke up he was still sleeping, so I just left. And then I came here. He’s probably going to think I’m trying to avoid him.”

“But you were trying to avoid him.”

“Yeah, I was, I’m not anymore though.”

“You could call him,” Rich suggests. Jeremy gives him a look of horror. “What? If you want this to work, he has to know you feel the same.”

Reluctantly, Jeremy pulls out his phone and calls Michael. He’s never done something like this before, usually it’s the other person who calls him right before he blocks their number. It rings a few times, but eventually Michael picks up. “Hey,” Jeremy breathes, keeping his eyes on Rich and hoping for guidance. Rich just smiles, his eyes still bright. “Um...Sorry I just left. A lot’s going on.”

“No worries,” Michael says. His voice is groggy, he probably just woke up. “I thought you were mad because I wouldn’t let you blow me while you were all hopped up.”

“God no,” Jeremy laughs. “Not mad at all. I'm glad, actually. That was...sweet.” He looks to Rich for reassurance, who is watching one half of the conversation like it’s a soap opera. “Um, anyways, I was wondering if you wanted to come home with me after work tomorrow? We could play video games or something. I just know that tomorrow is going to be really shitty, but this would give me something to look forward to.”

“Seriously?” Michael asks. “Like, you’re not fucking with me right now? You’re actually admitting to wanting to see me?”

“Yes, yes, now shut up before I change my mind.”

“Ha! I knew it.” Michael says. “I’d love to, Jer. That sounds fun.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” Jeremy says, still grinning even when he hangs up. “I can’t believe I just did that. That felt...really good, actually.” Jeremy reaches up across the bar to wrap his arms around Rich in an awkward hug, mumbling a thanks against his shoulder.

“I’ve never seen you like this,” Rich says when they pull apart.

Jeremy sits on his barstool, perked up, completely unaware of the smile on his face and the way his dimples are showing up. “Like what?”

Rich thinks for a few moments, elbows leaning on the counter of the bar as he studies Jeremy expression. He finally comes to a conclusion, and he crosses his arms in front of him with a smirk growing on his lips. “I’ve never seen you so happy.”


End file.
